


Ritual

by shoelace-noose (princessbekker)



Category: Lucifer (TV), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Rituals, Sex Rituals, Vaginal Fingering, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessbekker/pseuds/shoelace-noose
Summary: Grace partakes in a ritual





	Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse for Grace to get fingered but who knows,, may turn into a full storyline

Grace feels naked. She’s clothed, in a thin white gown, but she feels like she’s been laid bare for the world to see as she lays across the altar of Cythera, a name she knows she recognizes but can’t quite put her finger on. All the fine silken fabrics feel good where her skin is bare, and she begins to dip into drowsiness from the soothing scent twisted of vanilla and incense. In spite of the warm temperature in the room, and her increasingly sleepy disposition, her arms and legs are prickly with goosebumps.

“Relax,” the woman above her says, a bowl of some creamy scarlet substance in her hand. Ella, she had introduced herself as. “You’re safe here. We’re going to help you.”

That’s what she’s here for, after all. Word of mouth informed her of the coven nestled in between a bakery and a flora nursery, nothing but an alley at first glance. The right words and it bursts open into a beautiful mansion, towering and covered in strange symbols. Only the double venus rings with recognition. She was welcomed by the arms of the woman now preparing her for whatever spell or ritual she’s about to undergo.

“Will it hurt?”

Ella smiles kindly and brushes her fingers through Grace’s hair. “No, sweetheart, it won’t hurt. You’re here because it always hurts. This time, we’re going to make you feel good.”

She dips two slender fingers into the bowl and withdraws them coated in red. The cream is cold when it spreads across her cheeks, crafting gentle patterns. 

“It’s not that hard to take care of you.” The red swirls down Grace’s neck. “But that’s not all you’re here for. We’re going to protect you from now on.”

More women come into the room, lighting candles around Grace’s body and beginning soft chants in a language Grace doesn’t speak, and yet it feels like coming home. There’s nothing to fear. She doesn’t have to think about anything except for the gentle brush of hands over wherever her skin is bare. Each point of contact is electric. She can’t help a shiver running through her whole body. They haven't done much other than gentle brushes against her, so she shouldn't be this far gone, but somehow even that little innocent contact to her arms and legs and neck have her feeling better than anything she's done before. Anything Reginald ever gave her. Just thinking his name hurts. This is a sacred place, one not intended for the likes of him.

"Empty your mind," Ella commands. "You do not exist outside of this room. You do not exist outside of your own happiness, your own pleasure."

It's laughably easy to believe her. Grace allows her thoughts to scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind, and her body falls into a relaxed warmth. She's so heavy, but in the best kind of way. Nothing can take that away, even the way Ella plucks the hem of the white gown and begins slowly slicing up with a ceremonial dagger. Up, up, up, the thin fabric parting easily and falling to rest beside Grace's now exposed body. She doesn't mind. In fact, she's rather eager.

The next part should be scary too, but it isn't. A few of the others raise the candles and pour dripping red wax in more sigils across her bare stomach. Instead of pain, she just feels pressure against the demanding float her brain has taken. It's over as it started, suddenly and with the heavy chant she clings to like a lifeline. Droning against her ears, it becomes as familiar as a heartbeat when Ella gently parts her legs and settles between them. She's pretty, Grace thinks, mapping with her eyes the contours of a body she swears had been clothed not too long ago. Thin, thinner than Grace, some of her bones visible beneath taught stretched skin in a way that would remind Grace of a skeleton on a day less momentous than this one. 

“Take a deep breath. You’re safe with us.”

Grace obeys, and is immediately rewarded by Ella’s thin fingers probing between her legs, seeking out the slight dampness leftover from the instructions Grace followed before she got here. Touch, but don’t finish. Just to make sure her energy is correct, they had said. She listened, because Grace always listens, and she’s glad she did because she’s been desperate for it for longer than she can really remember when Ella pushes a single finger into her. It’s not enough, but it’s something, something that has her eyes rolling back in her head and the muscles in her back going taught.  For some reason, it feels better than anything else she’s ever experienced, perhaps a byproduct of whatever magic the coven just performed for her.

“I know, beautiful,” Ella says when Grace lets out a breathy sigh. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing she knows, Ella has bent over her and they’re kissing. It’s not clinical or demanding, merely loving. Caring. An expression of affection and the desire to give Grace the pleasure she’s been denied her whole life. She loses herself in it so easily. The way Ella’s lips are soft against her own, her tongue warm when it brushes Grace’s lower lip. The way a second finger eases itself in beside the first and curls inside of her as Ella’s thumb rubs slow circles around her clit. Grace is floating in the best kind of way, a feeling she neither wants to nor has the ability to escape.

The chanting rises around her again, and she sinks into its familiarity. Her world narrows to Ella’s body now pressing more and more against her so she’s like a blanket over top of Grace. Warm and safe and smelling of the same incense that has drifted heavily over the room the entire time. It’s perfect. Home. She doesn’t ever want to leave the safety of this moment. The peace. For once, she has something perfect she can’t bear to abandon.

For an eternity, Grace loses herself to the sensations of Ella touching her, making her feel good just as promised, accompanied by the insistent buzzing that seems to follow the ritual. She doesn’t mind it when her body begins to burn all over with the warring sensations of ice and fire. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Her stomach feels tight. Her legs are shaking. There’s a different kind of warmth pooling in her veins. 

Her chest seizes and she can’t breathe as she loses herself in the soft movement of Ella’s fingers on her, in her. It feels so perfect. Grace’s eyes squeeze shut. There are hands all over her, more than Ella’s, more than the women she remembers seeing. Touching her all over. But she doesn’t mind, not in the slightest. Her head tips back and she feels herself disconnect, every neuron blinking off for a split second.

Or at least, it only feels like a split second.

The next thing she knows, she’s wrapped up in the silk and the shreds of her nightgown. Ella holds her up tenderly, pressing soft kisses to her temples and cheeks until Grace’s hands stop shaking. She’s now a part of something, and she never wants to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover/Writing blog: @shoelace-noose
> 
> Lucifer blog: @nbmazikeen  
> TUA blog: @fourthumbrella


End file.
